Unwinnable Games
by LionsTigersGuitars
Summary: A deranged man leads te CSI's through an investigation where he forces them to play by his rules. His grand prize? Rayford Langston's life.


**A/N:** **I am merely a fan of CSI. Actually, my mom is, but I like the show too. I do not own CSI or any of its plots, characters, or anything related that you could possibly think of. I claim nothing except for the computer sitting happily on my lap. I hope you enjoy the story. I greatly enjoy writing and sharing it with you. **

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"A year ago I stood in this exact spot thinking that it truly could not get any worse, but I see that I was wrong. Very wrong. Do people just not have shame anymore? Has our society thrown its dignity to the dogs? I feel as though my eyeballs are about to bleed! This is just so—"

"Chill out homeboy, you're being dramatic." Greg cut in. "It's the holiday season – the one opportunity in the year for people to don their Christmas sweaters without looking stupid. And what gives you the right to complain about everyone else, huh? Your attire is… how many colors are even on this thing?" He asked, motioning to Raymond's striped sweater. "I see bole, cadmium red, cadmium green, camouflage green, and white. You know what that is?"

"I haven't got a clue."

"Too many colors, that's what."

"Oh hush."

There was an awkward pause. Ray stood still with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a small cup of fruit punch. Blinking and breathing were the only movements he made. Meanwhile, Greg slowly turned and looked up at him, a curious expression coming to his face.

"Is it at least warm?" He asked.

"Not as warm as it looks."

Greg chuckled and returned to his original position. Ray remained stationary, staring out into the sea of partygoers before him. Lately he had developed a habit of people watching, and this was the perfect place to do it. The twenty-seventh annual Los Angeles Law Enforcement (or LALF for short) Christmas Bash was booming with well over three hundred guests of ages ranging from six months young to sixty-six years old. It warmed Ray's heart to see everyone gathered in the great room with their friends and families, enjoying the festivities of the evening, and sharing the joy of the Christmas season. He turned to Greg, ready to voice his feelings, only to discover that he was gone. Ray spotted him standing about twenty feet away talking to a few other men his age. Probably about science or forensics, he assumed. Of course he was disappointed, but only a little, so he quickly shrugged it off and looked around the room to see what the other CSI's were doing. Catherine sat comfortably in an armchair near the fireplace, cross-legged and happily sipping fruit punch from a wine glass. She was with a group of five other women, all of whom sat with their legs crossed as well. Lucky for them this was not a baby shower, or else they all would have lost their clothes pins by now. Nick was off in a far corner entertaining the kids. He caught Ray's eye as a pair of twin brothers attached themselves to his legs. Another child – this time a girl (just slightly heavier than average) jumped up on his back while two more kids latched onto his arms and proceeded to pull him down to the ground.

"Ray!" He cried out mere moments before his defeat. "Help me! Please!"

"Not on your life." Ray mumbled under his breath. He then laughed as he watched Nick be swallowed whole by the mound of rowdy children.

Unfortunately, the rest of the CSI's could not be present for the event. Though Christmas was only 76 hours away, there were still plenty of crime scenes to investigate. Villains were never seemed to be fond of holiday breaks.

Raymond was just taking the last swig of punch when suddenly all of the various conversations and even kids were hushed by a sudden burst of microphone feedback.

"Surprise!" Shouted a voice once the feedback had subsided.

The partygoers laughed.

"Yeah, uhh, sorry about that folks." Said the young man standing at the microphone.

Ray's brow lifted, ready to hear what the lad had to say. His name was Scott Andrews; a very sprightly young man (just out of college), and the official MC of the evening.

"Anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the evening." Scott continued. "I know I am! Right now I'd like to welcome some very special guests to the stage. While they're lining up here I'd like to extend my apologies to the kids, the guests I'm talking about are not Santa and his elves, but don't worry, they will be here a little bit later. Right now however, it is my honor to introduce to you: the Las Vegas Police Department!"

The stage lights were brought up as fifteen men and women lined up behind Scott. As they marched onto the stage, a roar of applause broke out in the crowd. When the cheers died down a little, Scott spoke up once again.

"And with these fine men and women are a few of the Las Vegas police chiefs, so if I could have them step forward…"

As an encore of loud applause erupted, one by one, four of the men and women stepped out of the line for a moment, and then promptly returned. Ray was to more than happy to see them there. The LVPD was always a pleasure to work with. He clapped his hands for the first chief and the second, but when the third stepped out his applause abruptly stopped. His eyes widened and his jaw fell as he looked upon the man on stage in wonder. It was the man's unique posture that made him look so familiar to Ray. The way his chest stuck out, the manner in which his elbows bent slightly, the sharpness of his movements. If the cap on his head wasn't casting a shadow over the man's eyes, Raymond would have been positive. Could it be? He had to know. He politely yet urgently began maneuvering his way through the crowd as if he was pursuing a known criminal. Scott was formally thanking those on stage with him one last time as Ray closed in, but when he arrived it was too late. Everyone was clearing off of the stage and the man was gone. Raymond was even more determined to find him.

After several long minutes of searching, his efforts finally paid off. He spotted the police chief standing alone at the refreshments table, filling a glass of punch for himself. Ray slowly approached him, his heart racing with anticipation, as he was not yet sure if the man was who he thought he was. There was only one way to find out…

"Matt?" Raymond called out.

The man's ears perked up. He set the glass down on the table and slowly turned around, his eyes meeting Raymond's instantly. Both men stood in disbelief for several moments, unsure if what they were seeing was real or not. Then finally, Ray stepped forward, opening his arms and throwing them around the man's neck in a long awaited embrace.

"Matthew "the dog" Sullivan!" He exclaimed with laughter, nearly choking his long lost friend in his grip.

"Raymond "the bear" Langston!" Matt managed to reply, though the air was literally being squeezed out of his lungs.

With a wide grin Ray stepped back, but then suddenly lunged forward, balling up a fist and throwing it into Matt's left arm. To no surprise, the rock of a man barely moved. Ray's expression was now filled with anger and contempt.

"You can't let a brother know when you're back in town?" Ray asked, clearly annoyed.

"I can," was the response "but I thought it would be better to surprise you."

"You're the devil!" Ray growled. Yet in his anger, he threw another hug around the man.

Matthew Sullivan and Raymond Langston were close. They teamed up on countless case, fought many battles, and endured many hardships together. They closely faced many dangers, shared victories, and brought a multitude of criminals to justice. They were truly an unstoppable team. Ray of course, was overjoyed by the news that his good friend was soon to be promoted to the chief of police. What he didn't know, however, was that the force he would be leading was not the LAPD. His services were requested in Miami, Florida, and he valiantly accepted the job offer. A short month later, Matt, his wife, and his son moved away, and for whatever reason, Matt had given Ray no notice at all. Ray tolerated his own bitterness, forcing himself to believe that Matt's unannounced departure was an act of charity. For several years Matt had been one of Ray's closest friends, and Matt knew deep down that any warning would have only festered greater sadness in Ray. So he packed up his family and left. Ray heard of it through the grapevine three days after he was gone. Somehow it did lessen the sorrow. That's not to say that it voided it completely. It didn't. But now it didn't matter. Ray was too thrilled to see his old colleague to be hurt anymore.

"When did you get in town?" He asked.

"Tomorrow will be our seventh day back." Matt replied. "We haven't even gone through all of the boxes yet."

"Where is Jacqueline?"

Without words, Matt gestured to where his lovely wife stood. A soft smile crossed Raymond's thick lips when he saw her. She hadn't aged a day. Jacqueline and Ray were once close. Before the move, he had always counted her as an honorary sister.

"And Ryan? Where is he?"

Acting on an assumption, Ray looked over to the corner where the kids continued to harass Nick.

"Is he somewhere in that mess?"

Matt let out a burst of laughter, which only confused Ray.

"I don't think you realize just how long it's been, my friend." He said between chuckles. He then tilted his head forward. "He's over there."

Ray turned around and spotted the boy. His jaw fell in surprise. Here he was expecting to see the small-statured, socially awkward young child he remembered. Instead, there was a tall and obviously confident young man. And he apparently had a sort of charm about him, as he was surrounded by teenage girls, all of whom seemed to have taken a liking to him. Ray couldn't believe it. The last time he laid eyes on the boy he was pale and thin with a strange looking bowl cut. Now he had a nice complexion with a healthy figure and a stylish hairdo.

"Apparently I didn't." Ray mumbled after a few seconds. "How old is he now?"

"He'll be seventeen in a couple of days."

"How old was he when you moved to Miami?"

"He was seven."

"Ten years?!" Ray nearly shrieked, whipping around to face Matt once again. Could ten years really have passed without him realizing it? "Where has time gone?"

"I ask myself the same question every day, man."

Ray opened his mouth to speak, but before any sound came out, he was interrupted by a small voice…

"Daddy!"

Both men turned to see a little girl running towards them as fast as her tiny legs would carry her. Her face beaming with adoration, she leapt into Matt's open arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck.

"Amber, this is Daddy's old friend, Mr. Langston. We used to fight all of the bad guys together. Can you say hi?"

"Hi." The little girl replied shyly.

"Hello there." Ray greeted, equally shy. This little girl was one of the most precious Ray had ever seen. Her big eyes, her button nose, her round cheeks… she was absolutely beautiful. In typical young child fashion, Amber only needed to come in contact with one of her parents to be subconsciously reminded that she was safe. She started wiggling to be let down. After kissing her on the cheek, Matt complied and let her go. She then scurried back to the corner, where the kids were now being treated to an old Christmas movie. Ray not looked at Matt with the beginnings of jealousy. This man really did have it all. A good job, the privilege of making the lives of the Los Angeles citizens safer, a lovely wife, two great kids (one of whom Ray did not know existed until tonight), and happiness. And yet, Ray could not be too jealous. Few men were as deserving of this good of a life as Matt.

Even as the party died down Ray could not believe the return of Matt and his family. The two had high hopes that they would again be as they were in the past. Not close friends. Twenty years would not be enough to weigh on their friendship. No, they both were eager to be a team once again, a team that would make the criminals of Los Angeles tremble. Little did they know, they were about to get much more than they bargained for: an atrocity that could possibly cost precious life. Perhaps even their own.


End file.
